


A Diamant Is Forever

by tatarrific



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: D.E.B.S. AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatarrific/pseuds/tatarrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Orphan Black version of D.E.B.S.  What happens when the top-scoring recruit at an all-women spy Academy's meets the intriguing criminal from the government's top ten wanted list?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Diamant Is Forever

_**08.15 hours** _  
**_D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Squadron Alpha House_ **  


_“Wake up, D.E.B.S! Wake up, time to report for duty! Come on, chickens, it’s time to flee the coop!_ ”

Cosima groaned, burrowing deeper into her covers. How was it that she, in her nearly four years as one of the top-performing cadets in a government-run spy academy, could learn how to deactivate a nuclear device in under two minutes, ask for directions to the nearest petting zoo in Bosnian, and disarm a 6’2” special forces soldier in 15 seconds but could not, for the life of her, ever wake up on time?

“ _D.E.B.S.! This is not a drill! Meeting commences in exactly 30 minutes!”_

The door to her bedroom banged open and Alison, her bangs sharp and plaid skirt crisp, announced the obvious. “Cosima, you are still in bed! Mrs. S. has been bellowing through the intercom for ten minutes already - you will make us late!” 

Cosima grunted groggily, reaching for her glasses. “Sorry, Ali, I’ll be down in two.”

Alison stomped her foot, her saddle shoe connecting loudly with the wood floor. “And where are Sarah and Krystal? Dickens! Sarah, I’m coming to you next, and there better be no boy in there!”

Left to her own devices again, Cosima slid out of bed, reaching for her crumpled uniform. The pleats on her skirt were askew, but the shirt smelled only slightly around the armpit, which made it totally acceptable for another day of wearing. If an instructor were to actually reproach her on the state of her D.E.B.S. blues, she would be ready with one of her standard retorts. Conscientious objector was her favorite because, in all seriousness, just because some douchebag congressman decided to tie the Academy funding to a requirement to have college-age women train in a fratboy fantasy version of a Catholic school girl’s uniform, didn’t mean she had to comply with it. 

Her second fall-back would be to argue that she was saving government funds by cutting down on the dry cleaning bill, _and_ lowering the impact on the environment, an argument her ex-girlfriend favored.

Uniform on, she took a quick glance in the mirror - the white button-down and blue plaid skirt looked presentable enough, and now all she needed to do was find her tie, and put her dreads up in a bun, find some shoes, maybe figure out where her bag is and-- her phone trilled mutedly from across the room -- find her phone. Right.

Her phone, as it happened, was in her bag, which was on top of her shoes, and was still ringing when she reached it. “Ah, for fuck’s--” She took a deep breath, then swiped to talk. “Shay, I really don’t have--”

“Babe, I just think we should talk, and process - I really think we can get past this if we just--”

“Shay, I really can’t talk right no-” 

_“D.E.B.S., up and at ‘em! Our country depends on you! Also, my breakfast will be cold if you’re late, and you know I don’t like my Lucky Charms getting soggy!”_

Cosima jammed her feet into her shoes, phone wedged into the crook of her shoulder, and frantically scanned her room for her academy-issued iPad. This day was already off to a banging start for it being, oh, 08.20 hours. She should be thankful it was Friday.

“Shay, this is _not_ a good time, and there is nothing more I can--”

Her door banged open again, this time revealing a frazzled Krystal, fellow D.E.B., perkiest housemate, and best friend. Though her make-up was, as always, on point, she looked slightly wild-eyed and her blond hair was uncommonly frazzled.

“Have you seen my gun?”

Cosima’s eyebrows went up. “Your gun? Krystal--,” she shrugged the phone into her hand impatiently, “Shay, I’m hanging up on you.” She ended the call and tossed the phone back into her bag, then turned to her friend. “Krystal, tell me you did not lose your gun again.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Krystal paced nervously, picking up various pieces of clothing off Cosima’s floor and throwing them back over her shoulder. “I, like, totally had it at the shooting range after classes, and then we stopped by the FroYo place afterwards, and it was in my purse -- I remember because I took it out and put it on the counter while I was looking for my wallet and the old lady freaked out and made me put it back, and then--,” she paused, eyes wide.

“The freezer!”

Cosima blinked. “The.. _freezer_?”

“OMG, thank you, thank you, I need to go get it before Alison figures out it’s missing.” Krystal paused long enough to press a harried kiss to Cosima’s cheek before running out.

Cosima stared after her in confusion for a beat before plopping down on her bed. She glanced at the dip her head had left in her pillow longingly.

_“If your skinny girl asses are not in the car in 30 seconds, this house will self-destruct! Twenty-Nine! Twenty-Eight! NINETEEN!”_

“Cosima!” Alison bellowed from the foyer. “Don’t make me commit D.E.B.-icide! Get down here, now!”

Cosima pressed her forehead against her steepled fingers, needing just a moment to drown everything out. When did this, when did _all_ of this - her studies, the career she thought she wanted, her seemingly solid relationship - become a burden?

The familiar ringtone piped up from the innards of her bag, and she groaned in disgust. There had to be a better way to start one’s day.

\- - - - - -

_**08.37 hours** _  
**_En route to D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Squadron Alpha vehicle_ **  


Ten minutes later they were speeding with abandon toward the Academy grounds. This meant that Alison, at five miles above the speed limit, carefully switched lanes with much signaling. Krystal was in the back seat of their VW Bug along with Sarah, the latter taking advantage of the mild May morning and their convertible to smoke with abandon.

Sarah flicked the ash off her cigarette, yelling against the wind into the front seat. “Mrs. S’ got a bee in her bonnet this morning, yeah? I mean, we’re always late. Has she not met Perfect Score, here?”

Alison shot her a disapproving glance from the driver’s seat. “As it happens, Cosima - for once - wasn’t the one making us late today. _Someone_ had to throw her unauthorized overnight visitor out of her second floor window before coming downstairs. And then we were delayed further because I had to help _someone else,”_ Cosima could see Krystal shrink in the back seat, “with, of all things, _freezer burn_ since she decided to deposit her Academy-issued sidearm there for the night! What were you _thinking_ , Krystal?”

“We, uh, we were doing an experiment on the dependability of our weapons in extreme conditions, Al.” Cosima interjected. “Chill. We will only be 5 minutes late. And Sarah’s right - Mrs. S seemed really on edge this morning.”

Alison gave her a dubious look, but let the topic of the frozen sidearm drop. “I don’t know -- all she said is that there was a shocking new development she needs to brief us on and that we not be late. And now,” she cut the wheel with force, turning onto the Academy grounds and throwing her companions against their seatbelts, “all I have to offer as an excuse is Sarah “interrogating” a male suspect in her quarters till the wee hours, and Krystal conducting experiments on our weaponry!”

Krystal, gingerly rubbing at her shoulder, attempted a diversionary tactic. “So, Cosima, what’s going on with you and Shay?”

Cosima shrugged, shaking off the question. “Nothing. We’re just .. on a break.”

“Ohmygod! What happened?” Krystal, Cosima could tell, was genuinely concerned. If a tad too nosy. “Did she cheat on you?!”

“No! Jesus, no, Krystal.” It would have been easier if Shay _had_ cheated. Or had experienced a similar fizzle of emotions that Cosima was suddenly facing, eight months into their relationship. “It’s nothing like that. We’re just…” She shrugged again, unusually at a loss for words. “At a crossroads.”

“No shite, Sherlock. Could have seen that one coming from a blimp.” Sarah was unsympathetic. “You just need to cut the cord, Cos.”

“Sarah, that is not very constructive.” Alison, as always, found even a hint of emotional upheaval unsettling. “Cosima, you just have to work through the rough patches. If you apply everything you learned while being a D.E.B. - remember, Discipline, Energy, Beauty, Strength! - you and Shay will be just fine.” She laid a comforting hand on Cosima’s leg. “You don’t just quit on a relationship.”

“That’s bollocks, Al. You may be able to Stepford your way through romance, but it’s obvious that Perfect here ain’t in love with Shay.”

Cosima turned to Sarah with a retort, but was cut short by Alison stepping on the breaks with vigor.

“Tut-tut ladies, we are here! Let’s put some pep in our step and not be any later than we have to!”

\- - - - - -

**_08.46 hours_ **  
**_D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Headquarters; Third floor hallway_ **  


The D.E.B.S. Academy admitted its first class with little fanfare three years ago, early in President Clinton’s second term. After a protracted territorial tug of war among the many three-letter agencies, a small budget was carved out for a trial class of female spies, derisively referred to as “Prezzie’s Lezzies” by the majority of military and clandestine ops brass.

The twenty young women eventually admitted were personally greeted by the President before their induction ceremony. Cosima still remembered the steel in her gaze as her eyes scanned the room as she had addressed the cadets.

_“I think many of you are aware of this, but you were brought here to fail. You were brought here to prove me wrong when I say that our nation’s intelligence corps can thrive only and when we have more female operatives in the field.” She had raised a manicured finger in warning. “You will be ridiculed by your peers, male and female, from other agencies. You will be provided subpar equipment and lousy facilities, and I have had to,” at this point her ire was audible, “grin and bear it and sign the most ridiculous uniform provision into the budget agreement for your Academy. But--” a hush had fallen over the room as she paused, “I believe with all my heart that a women-only environment will allow you to reach your full potential with the support and encouragement and push you to exceed your own expectations.” She nodded, her perfectly coiffed hair moving nary at all, “You have already exceeded mine. Now go prove ‘em wrong, ladies!”_

As it turned out, the President was not wrong. The Academy was housed in a dilapidated building in the abandoned, sprawling VA hospital campus in northwestern D.C., a clear sign of what the expectations were; the entire complex was scheduled to be bulldozed just three weeks after their graduation date, in order to make room for new condos.

She was also correct in her assessment that their ragtag group of recruits would coalesce into a tightly knit unit of women fiercely protective of each other.

Cosima tripped, snapped out of her revelry, and, carried by the force of her momentum, fell headlong into Sarah.

“Oi! The fuck, Cos, watch where you’re going!”

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I just--,” the chuckling came from behind them, and Cosima rolled her eyes even before she turned toward the sound. “Seriously, Beth? You are tripping me in the hallways now?” Fiercely protective unless, that is, they were being complete dicks toward each other.

“Oh, hey there, Score. I’m sorry, were you rushing by so fast you didn’t see my foot there?” Beth leaned against the wall, shirttails untucked, uniform tie slack around her collarbone. “Where you off to in such a hurry, ladies?”

“Oh, piss off, Beth. Wanna pick on someone your size, yeah?” Sarah surged forward, but Allison stepped in, placing a calming hand on her arm.

“Elizabeth Anne, we are on our way to meet Mrs. S. and she certainly won’t appreciate hearing that we have been made late by these.. sophomoric escapades of yours!”

Beth raised her arms in mock surrender, pushing herself off the wall. “Whatever you say, Ali. Though,” she couldn’t resist a parting shot, “Miss Perfect here should brush up on her situational awareness some. Next time we square off on the mat, Cosima, you won’t get a perfect score.” 

Cosima shook her head silently, unwilling to engage any further with the leader of the opposing squad. Yes, D.E.B.S. put up a united front against any outsiders aiming to undermine what they were trying to achieve, but competition for top billing was fierce within Academy walls. Down to only fifteen remaining recruits after three gruelling years of training, they were divided into four squads, and only those recruits belonging to the top-performing squad at the end of the year were assured graduation. Everyone else would have to pass an intensive barrage of final tests, an exhausting process filled with opportunities for failure.

Sarah, on the other hand, was not leaving any opportunity to swear unturned. “Bugger off to your cave, troglodyke. Why don’t you come to the mats with me, yeah? Haven't’ been able to beat me one on one yet.” 

Cosima pulled Sarah along, silently shaking her head. “That’s because you bite, Sarah. Come on, she just wants to rile us up. Al, K, let’s go. Mrs. S. is waiting.”

\- - - - - -

_**08.47 hours** _  
**_D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Headquarters; Mrs. S’s Office_ **  


“Cadets, you are late!” Mrs. S - they had long ago stopped attempting to find out her name - was the head of the Academy, part drill-sergeant, part student dean, and part mother figure crossed with barbed wire. She was in her forties with a head of thick auburn hair and a broad, open face. The lilt of her Irish accent was deceptively melodic, smile crinkles around her blue eyes assuringly benign, but woe be it upon the D.E.B. who shirked her duties or failed to obey her. “Now that you have deigned to grace me with your presence, sit and keep your gobs shut. We have much to cover.”

“Oi, oi, Mrs. S,” Sarah perched on the arm of the angular couch in the office, her army-booted food swinging back and forth, “Did you call us in to tell us we’re graduatin’ early due to good behavior?”

Alison tsked at her with horror, but Mrs. S held up a hand in warning. “Sarah Belle Manning, I have told you not to expose me to your prattling until you got that accent down. If it’s possible, you’ve gotten worse - you’re doing Cockney in one sentence, and sound like the Queen mum in another! Not another word out of you, or you will be the squad toilet cleaner between now and graduation, is that clear?”

Cosima watched with awe the transition only Mrs. S was able to create as Sarah shrunk back, responding mildly in a flat, unaccented American English. “Sure, yeah. Whatever.”

“Anyone else have any smart alecky comments?” Mrs S leaned against her desk and spread her arms wide, questioning. “No? Good. How kind of you. Now turn your attention to the screen.”

Cosima turned toward the large projector as Mrs. S dimmed the lights. The screen yawned darkly at them for a moment before a single grainy black and white photo appeared, and Cosima felt her breath escape. “Oh my god, that’s--”

“Delphine Diamant,” Mrs. S intoned gravely. “She is back.”

\- - - - - -

_**08.52 hours** _  
**_D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Headquarters; Mrs. S’s Office_ **  


Mrs S. held up a hand, bringing down the volume of excited chatter to a manageable level. “Cadets, cadets, that’s _enough_. If you all will pipe down, I can start giving you some answers.”

Cosima, eyes still glued to the grainy photo - a long-legged woman in tight black pants, a white T and a slouchy beanie, wisps of blonde hair escaping the hat, was pictured getting into a cab at Dulles - felt faint. “Mrs S, this is-- this is huge!”

“What is her status. Can we engage? Known associates?” Alison had her iPad out, and was tapping in her notes furiously.

“I think I have those pants.” Krystal, head tilted thoughtfully to the side, studied the photograph. “We could do a cross-check of recent purchases in size 4 versus her last known location. Though they _are_ H &M, so the search parameters would be huge..”

Sarah, arms crossed, sat mutely and feigned indifference.

“Yes, Cosima, this _is_ huge - this is the first time anyone has even heard from Diamant in over three years, let alone gotten close enough to collect visual intel, and she pops up in our nation’s capital.” Mrs S clicked her remote, bringing up the next slide, “As you can see here, though the folder on her family is thick - the Diamants have been the largest Canadian crime conglomerate for generations - very little is known about the youngest and most elusive member.”

“Well, except that she is the heir apparent, and extremely deadly,” Alison’s eyes glittered with what looked like excitement. Or fear. “In the six years since she emerged as a factor in the family business, only three agents managed to get near her and,” her voice fell to a whisper, “none survived.”

“Actually, two died, but the third was never found.” Krystal shrugged at Alison’s glare. “What, I read a draft of Cosima’s thesis. It is very detailed.”

“Which brings us to the reason for this meeting.” Mrs. S looked at them gravely. “Though we had drone surveillance on her from the moment she disembarked to the time she stepped out of the cab at L’Enfant Plaza, we still somehow lost her.” She held up her hand to quiet down the alarmed murmur that rose up, “But, the SMS information we collected off the burner she used - since discarded - provided us with an important bit of intel. We know that tomorrow night she will be meeting Rachel Duncan, head of Dyad Co which is, as you know, the top money laundering bank for every major black hat operation out there.”

Cosima leaned forward, heart jackhammering in her chest.

“And you, D.E.B. Squadron Alpha, have been tasked to infiltrate that meeting.”

_**09.14 hours** _  
**_D.E.B.S. Academy_ **  
**_Headquarters; Mrs. S’s Office_ **  


“I’m sorry, the meet is.. where?” Krystal leaned in disbelievingly.

“Diamant will be meeting Duncan at 22.00 at “Liquid Ladies”, a lesbian club in Dupont Circle,” Mrs. S held out four folders. “Details are there, read now, the folders are not to leave this office. You will each be tasked with covering a different area of the club, some posing as staff, some as patrons.”

“Liquid Ladies?” Cosima’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“This is deviously brilliant,” Alison clutched her briefing folder, “no men allowed, so the assumption on their end is that risks of infiltration are minimal.”

Sarah chortled, flipping through her folder. “So this explains why Cosima was a shoe-in for this op, but why the rest of us?”

“Cosima is here because she _is_ the current national expert on Delphine Diamant given her three-year long thesis research on the subject,” Mrs. S nodded nodded toward Sarah, “and if I am remembering correctly, according to your and everyone else’s personnel files, only Krystal here is a complete neophyte when it comes to..” Mrs. S paused, pursing her lips in an effort to contain her smirk, “Sapphic activities.”

“Alison?” Krystal’s head swiveled toward the squadron leader, eyes wide, who, in response, burrowed her face into her briefing folder.

“Sarah??” Cosima chortled out loud, hooking a thumb in Sarah’s direction. “This Sarah? The one who kicks out a different boy out of her room every week?” Noting Mrs. S’s pointed stare, Cosima coughed awkwardly, “Or, you know, would be, if it were, like, allowed by the house rules.”

“Right, now that _that’s_ settled,” sparing them one more suspicious glance, Mrs. S pushed off from her desk, and started her debrief. “Sarah, you’ll be the club bouncer - you are the muscle and will help with extraction; Alison, you are the bartender - you will be key to spiking Diamant’s drink and knocking her out when the time comes; Krystal, go-go dancer - responsible for surveying the club from your raised platform and identifying any backup Diamant brought in; Cosima--”

Cosima leaned forward in her seat, feeling lightheaded. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe she is about to wake up and be back in her bed, and not about to be given the juiciest of all missions. _Delphine Diamant._ The young, elusive, _female_ crime boss who has been a topic -- _the_ topic -- of her intelligence research since she started at the Academy.

“You will play the role of the club patron -- you’ll be the free-floater, and will keep eyes on Diamant at all times, but will not engage unless directed.” Mrs. S paused, making eye contact with each woman individually.

“I do not have to underscore how critical this mission is, not only for apprehension of a major target, but also for the future of D.E.B.S.. If we execute well, this could go a long way toward affording us the respect -- and funding -- of the intelligence community. Be smart, be prepared, be tough -- and let’s do this the D.E.B. way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my buddy, fanfic writer extraordinaire and a super beta, otp324B21. You rawk!


End file.
